


Last moments

by HASA_Archivist



Category: The Lord of the Rings - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Drama, Multi-Age
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-04-17
Updated: 2010-04-28
Packaged: 2018-03-23 08:40:13
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 2,291
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3761900
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HASA_Archivist/pseuds/HASA_Archivist
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A collection of one shots about  some moments in either the Silmarillion or tLotR about the end of something or the beginning of something new. Will be in permanent  in-progress status.<br/>so far we have:<br/>- the death of Finrod Felagund.<br/>- the end of the children of Hurin (different style).<br/>- Maglor's thoughts after Maedhros' suicide.<br/>- Nienna's thoughts after the destruction of Numenor.<br/>- Aragorn's thought and hopes after the War of the Ring.<br/>- Arwen's thoughts as Aragorn dies.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Finrod: There was no Sun Today

**Author's Note:**

> Note from the HASA Transition Team: This story was originally archived at [HASA](http://fanlore.org/wiki/Henneth_Ann%C3%BBn_Story_Archive), which closed in February 2015. To preserve the archive, we began manually importing its works to the AO3 as an Open Doors-approved project in February 2015. We posted announcements about the move, but may not have reached everyone. If you are (or know) this author, please contact The HASA Transition Team using the e-mail address on the [HASA collection profile](http://archiveofourown.org/collections/hasa/profile).

There was no sun today. He could see no more, everything was dark. Felagund knew Beren was there somewhere, trying to heal the wounds of his friend. He closed his eyes and went to sleep. Memories and dreams of his golden lady far away had kept him awake at night for so long, and even now he could not do but think about Amarie. He had loved her ever since the first time they had met and still it hadn't been enough. Amarie, who did not cross the Helcaraxë but remained in Aman, was not forgotten by Finrod Felagund, Lord of Nargothrond. And on this very moment he knew that, when she had begged him not to leave and that when his father had returned to Valinor, he had made the wrong choice by coming to Middle-earth. Now he felt the pain of his wounds and above them he felt regret for all he had done, but couldn't undo. Life slipped away every single second and all he could think of was his golden lady, Amarie. She would never go to the halls of Mandos and so she never would see him again, nor would he see her, for they were immortal. He heard footsteps, but no help would come in time now, all hope had passed long ago. Finrod opened his eyes one last time and a women stood before him, he knew her, but she wasn't the one his heart desired. He was immortal, once he had been. His world turned black and the light of his eyes passed out as his soul left these lands, the Great Lands, to never come back.


	2. The Children of Hurin: Little Heart

(order of appearence: Niënor, Morwen, Turin, Morwen, Hurin)

The icy wind swept around her, through her. It pulled her hair, her cloths, her everything closer to the edge. Her eyes stood uncertain but her heart was set. Inching closer to the edge. The chasm was deep as the love she felt, the rocks sharp as the stinging pain in her heart. Her cry was one born of despair as she fell to her death.  
The icy water swirled around her, through her as it carried her away.

'My heart, my little heart!' the woman mourned. Ever have I searched for you . Your name was your prophecy, your love was your downfall.  
'My heart, my little heart, pierced by the rocks!'

There was no pain in death, only in life when all have abandoned you. The sword at his chest was no longer a threat, it was freedom.  
'All that remains is my miserable life! Then take it!' He fell to the ground, consumed by the darkness. He was trapped in the comforting grip of death and he welcomed it as a long lost friend. As his life-giving blood spilled forth he smiled. This was his victory and death had won his prey at last.  
His body grew cold as the pain eased away.

'My heart, my little heart!' the woman mourned. Never will you be forgotten. Many names you have carried and with each one a new agony was forced upon you.  
'My heart, my little heart, pierced by the sword!'

'My love, beloved, has your strength gone? What are those tears? Their grave be our grave.  
Come into my embrace and close your eyes, the world has seen enough of us. It's beauty has faded as has our youth. Come my love, beloved, let us sleep and see if the morning wakes us.'

Morning broke, the air was cold, the sky a faded grey. This night had been their last.


	3. Maglor: Of Madness and Suffering

_(I always liked Maglor)  
_

…I wanted to die…

Had I wanted to I could have done so. Die. I could take my own life as I have taken many others. And yet I wondered, to what end? Out of self pity I guess. Out of want to end the misery, the guilt, the endless agony maybe? Leave myself at the mercy of the Valar.   
I doubt it would do much good, after all I am a kin slayer. Their punishment would be far worse then any self inflicted pain, any everlasting sorrow. I convinced myself that, the merciful Valar would show me no mercy. And maybe for a few fleeting moments I actually believed myself.   
I took pity on my brother, he had willingly faced their punishment by killing himself. He would not judge me for throwing away the accursed light, but my father had not seen to what ends we had to go and would not understand. I could face him, I even could face the Valar, but I would not for doing so would mean taking responsibility. And that I could not. I cried for him, Maedhros, for my all of my brothers, for my father, for every life I had taken, and finally I cried for myself. It must have been quite a sight.


	4. Nienna: Swallowed by the Sea

And when the sun rose above the waters, all ships had been swallowed by the great sea and had disappeared in it's endless depths. I saw the place where, from now on, the grave of so many lost souls would lie. Thinking of all the lives that had ended it was hard to hold back the tears. I did not let them fall, they would have meant nothing. They could not return the dead. I had a hard time believing that.

In the distance I heard the crying of both men and women. And children. How to explain that their father or mother would not come. How to stand strong, looking at the joyous faces ever too young to understand,...to be marred by sorrow? How to stand strong when told?

I imagined them running across the deck, laughing, not yet aware of what had befallen them. I could see the people standing at the railing, hoping, for a sign that not all had been lost. And I could see how they were disappointed, every single one of them.

Seeing this I could no longer resist my tears.

'It had been a necessary sacrifice. By destroying the island and with it many lives we had saved many more and had ensured a safe future for those to come.'  
We had said this many times to ourselves and to the survivors, yet every time it sounded less convincing. For I felt that if, in time, we were to look back to this moment our words would have turned out to be hollow lies.  
We knew this now, we had known this in the past and we would know it in the future, painfully well. Why had we yet to learn our lesson?

We had called it justice. Men had called it fate, as they had done for ages. And I…, for the first time, I feared myself.

And my tears were swallowed by the sea.


	5. Aragorn: Eos

In the distance I can see the glowing embers of the dying pyres, around them the mourning people are cast in the long shadows of the setting sun. The air is still heavy as are many peoples hearts, the sky a March-gray.

The stone of the white city seems to glow lightly in the evening sun. To me this monument of strength has never lost it's splendour, it's people had. They were the gray mice living among the spirits of the mighty lords of long ago, living in the great halls of yore. They were ashamed, afraid that they could never live up to those standards. Afraid that they were to nibble on whatever glory that had been left. Yet in there shame they were strengthened. To see their city crumble, no, to see their fellows crumble made them all the more determined to destroy the evil and regain the glory of old.

I am proud of them, of my people, for I dare not think of what the outcome would have been if not for them. When I look at them now, I do not see despair or pretended conviction, I see hope. True hope. It has always been there but ever it was hidden away. There strength lies not in numbers or military force. It's their determination. To have lived so close to the dark lord for so long and still stand firm, still believe in a future is what gave them their future. A future for the next generation. They may be proud of their ancestors. I am.

And as I watch the embers die down, I think of the days ahead and know that it has been a long struggle and there is still much rebuilding to be done, but for now, we will rest more soundly in the knowledge that in the morning the sunrise will wake us, and no fumes from the east will be there to veil the light of dawn.


	6. Arwen: Death of A Dream

_Disclaimer: why do people still bother to write this, it's obvious._

_This is based on something that was based on something that I wrote at the same time as Maglor's suffering, or even before that._

_Death of a Dream_

She had always known this day would come. She had spied the end lurking around the corner for many years now, she had known from the very beginning that this moment was inevitable and yet…

It was too soon and a hundred years from now it would still be too soon. This was not the happy end to their fairytale like love, this was real. The bliss that had clouded her vision had grown as she wallowed in it. Blissful denial. The cold wind that ripped through every human's life just once, had come and chased the sweet scented illusion away. There were no screams to proclaim its arrival and there were no agonised coughs to announce its victory. It had come gently and, though small as it was, it was a blessing.

His eyes were open, though barely as they sought hers, in hope of finding comfort in the security her presence presented, a final attempt to hold on to the familiar and beloved before he departed to the unknown abyss and what lay beyond. For him and him alone did she manage a small smile. He was afraid she knew. A brave man he had been, still was. Steadfast he had taken on any challenge that came his way and he had hardly ever faltered, but this final test, one each mortal must take, he had to face alone. She had never stood beside him in his greatest battles, but her heart had been with him and always there had been the unwavering knowledge –hope- that somewhere someday they would meet again. But know, there would be no such reunion and the understanding this brought of their own insignificance was frightening.

'Don't leave,' she murmured, 'don't leave me.' And as she spoke her voice broke and her smile waned. What she had asked had been selfish. Why was she unable to comfort him in his hour of need? Now was the time, to show him one final time how she loved him and she could not even smile for him. He did so for her, and as he did this, she saw him as he had been and still was underneath the pale, wrinkled skin, strong and powerful, compassionate and passionate. She had loved him then and she did so now. Why could she not say it? Would it make a difference? Would it spare her a broken heart? Would it spare him? She knew it sounded dim even as she thought of it, but perhaps… perhaps that was the password to send him on. If she were to say it now, it would be the very last time those words would pass her lips. She wanted to leave, she didn't want to see him, didn't want to speak to him. There was a cruel hope inside her that made her believe that, if she ignored it, than this wouldn't happen.

Outside the guards had been talking about a funeral and she had screamed at them. He wasn't dead, he would pull through this and life would continue as before. But she had known then that it was futile hope and now she had seen him and knew it was the very last time she would lay eyes on him.

'I love you.' It was barely a whisper, but it was there. He deserved that. She could no deny him this last bit of comfort, just like she couldn't deny the truth of her statement. He still looked at her, secure within the knowledge that wherever he would go, he had her love. A small part of her shied away from that love, it had given her a few blissful years but at the same time so much heartache. No, it was not the love she pulled away from, she realised, but the pain it had brought and would bring, from reality that had so suddenly and yet expectedly put an end to their joy.

She sat by him, holding his withered hand in hers, as the hours crept by. She spoke no more and he had no longer the strength to do so. Few tears escaped her. And as his breathing finally faded away, so did the light within her eyes.

…

_Additional poem_

The truth lies hidden in moments

And only a moment to speak

Of what lies hidden in our hearts

Time slower in silence

In silence most things said

No one speaks

Our eyes say a thousand words

And our eyes window on our soul

In silence our souls linger

Between the two of us

In those moments they mingle

And in silence they speak.

_The poem doesn't really fit but I was reminded of it immediately when I wrote the story._


End file.
